"I fear he was annoyed," murmured Jacques. "You 'fear'!" said Henri irascibly. I was dismayed to hear resentment in his tone. Though Martime had gone the constraint continued; and it was not long before we rose. As Henri and I walked on, after Jacques had parted from us, I said: "Very stupid of Martime. You spoke in quite a friendly way." "And still more stupid of Jacques to talk about the story to him," he flung back, at white heat. "What possible interest could Jacques' difficulties have for Martime? Childish!" "But--pardon me, it was you who first mentioned the matter," I said. "Ah, don't split straws," he growled. Clearly, the incident disturbed him more than a little. It was probably a week or ten days afterwards that Jacques came to me in great perturbation and volleyed, "What do you think? Henri has got his knife into me! It appears that Martime has returned the play, and Henri says it is my fault." "Oh, nonsense!" I said. "How can he say that? Returned the play? I am dreadfully sorry." "I too. But what have _I_ got to do with it? Did you ever hear anything more preposterous? To begin with, it is not likely that Martime would refuse the piece solely on account of what was said that day; and, even if he did so, it was not I who said it. It wasn't till yesterday I knew there was anything wrong. Blanche met Elise. Elise's manner was rather strange, and Blanche wondered. But she had no idea there was any ill-feeling. Naturally! She inquired if Henri had heard from Martime yet. Then it came out." "That Henri held you responsible?" "Blanche was condoling. She said, 'What a cruel disappointment for you both, dear!' And Elise said coldly, 'Yes, indeed; it is very unfortunate that Jacques discussed his affairs in front of Martime.' Blanche, poor girl, was thunder-struck. Of course, she explained to Elise exactly what had happened. But Elise replied with something very vague, and when I telephoned to Henri he was not himself with me at all--he was very brusque. He said,' I have no wish to talk about the matter.' There is not the least doubt that he is angry." "I will have a chat with him," said I. I went the following day. But he had gone to have a Turkish bath, and Elise, who received me, begged me not to mention the play when I saw him. "His finest work, that took him a year to do, practically wasted!" she said, in a stunned fashion. "It is frightful. He is stricken. It would be kinder of you not to say anything about it to him yet awhile. I'll tell him that you came." "But 'practically wasted'?" I demurred. "He will be able to place it with some other management, will he not?" "He may. But it is not the kind of play for every management. And, anyhow, we shall not get Martime in the part. It will never now be the immense success that it _would_ have been. What an idiot to reject a great part because his vanity was wounded!" "You are certain that is the explanation?"